Closer To You
by SpemilyFan
Summary: Spencer is struggling with Emily's death. He copes by going to her grave every day to talk to her. Song-fic based on "Closer To You" by the Wallflowers.


**Disclaimers**: I don't own the characters, the show, or the amazing lyrics of Jakob Dylan.

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><p>"Closer to You"<p>

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><p><em>How soft a whisper can get<em>

_When you're walking through a crowded space_

_I hear every word being said_

_And I remember that every day_

_I get a little bit closer to you_

They're all worried about me, Emily. I can feel their eyes on me as I walk through the bullpen. They whisper about me, too—I know because there's the awkwardness of a forced subject change as I get within earshot. They know I'm having a hard time dealing with your death, but they don't know just how much I hurt. They don't know that I'm doing everything in my power to make it through each day without using…or ending it all.

They don't know about us, Emily. They don't know that I can still feel you next to me in my bed. They don't know that I loved you with an intensity incomprehensible even to a mind like mine. They don't know that the hard-fought battle to regain our friendship turned into an incredible connection that eventually became intimate. They don't know that I was the only person who had broken down your walls, brick by brick. They don't know that I had bought a ring. Hell, you didn't know that, either…until now.

_How long an hour can take_

_When you're staring into open space_

_When I feel I'm slipping further away_

_I remember that every day_

_I get a little bit closer to you_

They don't know that I come here to talk to you every day that I'm not on a case. They don't know that, despite my inherently atheistic nature, I've come to find solace in the possibility of seeing you again. Of course, I still see you in my dreams. Remember how I told you that once we got together, my nightmares stopped? It's still true. Since you've been gone, though, my fitful attempts at sleep are punctuated by little movies in my mind, movies about us. I dream of working on cases with you, of making love to you, of marrying you, of raising a family together, of growing old together. It hurts so much that it will never be real, but knowing I can go to sleep at night and be with you helps me make it through the day much more than the countless cups of sugar mixed with a little bit of coffee.

_These are the days_

_That I won't get back_

_I won't hear you cry_

_Or hear you laugh_

_Any when it's quiet_

_And I don't hear a thing_

_I can always hear you breathe_

I miss you so much, Emily. This morning, I just about lost it when I accidentally knocked over the bottle of shampoo that you kept in my shower. I hadn't touched it since you left. I know it sounds silly, but it reminded me of how intertwined our lives had become. I always loved how your hair smelled, like a field of lavender. Did you know that numerous studies show that lavender is one of the most relaxing scents in aromatherapy? I personally always preferred the smell of coffee…until I smelled your hair for the first time. I miss smelling your hair. I miss hearing your laugh. I miss playing footsie with you under the table in the conference room. I miss our seemingly frivolous conversations, like when you had to explain to me what footsie was. I'm so glad I have an eidetic memory, so I don't forget every amazing thing about you, Emily. You're always with me.

_You know there's nowhere else I wanted to be_

_Than be there when you needed me_

_I'm sorry, too,_

_But don't give up on me_

_And just remember that when you were asleep,_

_I got a little bit closer to you._

I wish you would have told me what was going on. I could tell by your fingernails that something was bothering you, but I had no clue the depths of the situation until it was too late. You really could compartmentalize better than anyone I know, keeping the various parts of your life separate. I guess that's a big reason why we were able to keep our relationship a secret from everyone. But Em—if you would have told me something—_anything_—about Doyle, I might have been able to help in some way. Once we knew you had disappeared, the pieces came together quickly, but not quickly enough for me to save you. I failed you, Emily. I'm so sorry. I wish I could have seen you one last time, to tell you goodbye, to tell you how much I love you and how much you changed my life. I don't know why I didn't fight harder to see you in the hospital that night, even though I knew you were gone. I guess it's for the best-that way I don't have a memory of what you must have looked like. We both know I never would have been able to forget it.

We're still doing everything we can to find Doyle. We all want to find him, Emily. We work on other cases, but we always keep an eye on the intelligence and chatter that's out there. We want justice for what he did to you, what he did to our team. I want him to pay for what he did to _us_, Emily. He took you from me. He ruined the most amazing, beautiful thing I had ever experienced. I won't let him win, Emily. That's why I'm still here. That's why I haven't given into the urges to use again, and why I haven't used my revolver to make the pain go away. God knows I want to do both. But I won't—I'm not a coward. You showed me that, Emily. You believed in me, and I know you still believe in me. I won't let you down.

I know I'll see you again, Emily. Someday, we will be reunited. I know that goes against everything I thought I believed—or what I thought I didn't believe, but it's what keeps me going. I know everyone's worried about me, but you shouldn't be. Each day gets a little easier, and coming here is a big part of that. It helps me still feel close to you. I wish I could be closer. Someday, Emily.

I miss you.

I love you.

I'll see you tomorrow.


End file.
